


Ink

by zinabug



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Amnesiac Doug Eiffel, Angst, Gen, Post-Finale, artist eiffel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinabug/pseuds/zinabug
Summary: It was just a force of habit, he supposed. He scribbled notes, and stars, and little doodles all up and down his arms with a pen. Doug didn’t know why he did it, but he’d woken up with them covering his hands and arms— some a good week old, some brand new— and he’d just added more and more as time went by.
Relationships: Doug Eiffel & Hera
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> artist Eiffel rights? anyone?

It was just a force of habit, he supposed. He scribbled notes, and stars, and little doodles all up and down his arms with a pen. Doug didn’t know why he did it, but he’d woken up with them covering his hands and arms— some a good week old, some brand new— and he’d just added more and more as time went by. 

_ \- Remember that you like coffee _

_ \- Listen to the next tape _

_ \- stay out of the way.  _

He traced stars all up and down the inside of his forearm and pretended he couldn’t hear Renée and Lovelace arguing. He ran his fingers along the the lines he’d drawn on his fingers and tried very hard not to look into Miranda’s eyes, to ignore the way she made him feel— trapped, helpless, scared. He drew neat rows of squares as he listened to one of the tapes with Hera. 

_ \- help out around here. Somehow.  _

_ \- don’t ask Jacobi if he’s okay, he’ll snap at you _

_ \- remember to ask Hera about gravity _

He could remember things if he traced them in ink. He wouldn’t forget where he left his computer or what tape he had to listen to next or the name of the daughter he apparently had— if he just wrote them down, he couldn’t forget again. 

_ \- her name is Ann.  _

_ \- her name is Ann.  _

_ \- her name is Ann.  _

He forgot things anyway, he was always forgetting things and every time he did he felt a little shock of panic— because what if the new memories didn’t stay? What if everything just broke again? And then Hera would remind him that he was in the kitchen to get a glass of water, and he would take a deep breath and pretend it was okay. 

_ \- sleep!  _

_ \- have you checked your pockets for it yet? _

_ \- there’s spare pens in the office Jacobi avoids— some other colored ones and everything _

He was sorry. He was so, so sorry he couldn’t be their Doug Eiffel. That he was a living, breathing reminder of so much pain. That he’d never understand exactly why being in the med bay made him shake or Miranda made him feel  _ like that  _ or where he got all his scars. He was just so sorry that there wasn’t anything he could do. 

_ \- apologize less _

_ \- don’t try to comfort them. It just hurts them.  _

_ \- you liked pineapple on pizza. Ask Hera about it and try it when you get home.  _

He’d had a jacket on him when he woke up. Bloody, tattered, filthy— but he couldn’t bear to get rid of it for one of  _ those reasons,  _ the ones he couldn’t remember. There were more notes and drawings on the sleeves, faded and layered but more permanent than the ones on his skin. Things he felt like he should understand, but just couldn’t. 

_ \- the Commander won’t look for you in the greenhouse but Hilbert might _

_ \- try hiding a stash of your new toothpaste? You never know. _

_ \- you probably left it in the comms room _

Most of it was unintelligible, stained or written over or ripped and clumsily mended, but Doug held onto the parts he could read like they were a breath of fresh air. Reall, tangible proof that he could hold in his hands. Proof that Doug Eiffel had existed, and he’d written these words, drawn these pictures. 

_ \- ask Hera what some of the symbols you drew on your jacket mean  _

_ \- you used to like pizza a lot. Like a lot.  _

_ \- don’t mention Dr. Hilbert unless you’re ready for the reaction.  _

He drew stars on his hand.  _ One. Two. Three.  _ Renée had started telling a story she couldn’t finish without Him— the  _ old  _ him. He’d asked Hera if she was there, and she’d sounded so sad when she answered. Lovelace wouldn’t look at him when he asked about the scars on his fingers and the tips of his ears— frostbite, apparently. 

_ \- ask Hera about painting  _

_ \- the purple pens make Jacobi think of something sad  _

_ \- don’t ask about how Renée got shot unless it’s one of those days where she wants you to ask questions.  _

He drew a planet. A slice of pizza. Flowers, even though he’d never seen one and didn’t know what they were until he asked Hera. He drew a smiley face. He drew everyone on board, and he drew a few other people he didn’t remember but looked familiar. People who seemed like they should be on this ship with them. 

_ \- you’ve never been on a planet. Asks Renée about it.  _

_ \- plants?  _

_ \- who are they.  _

Don’t forget. Don’t forget. He wasn't going to forget again. Doug drew to remember, the somehow familiar pen tracing over his hands and forearms helped him know for sure that he was real, even without knowing who he was.

_ \- your name is Doug Eiffel.  _

_ \- your name is Doug Eiffel.  _

_ \- your name is Doug Eiffel.  _


End file.
